Page 2 of Legacy

Someone across the room cheers as they all take shots. The party is starting to devolve. It’s only a matter of time before people are fucking on the pool table and popping wheelies out back.

Maybe I should join them.

I could use anything to get out of my head lately. After the bullet ripped through my leg, it took months for me to get back on my bike. And even though I’m healed, I’ve barely been in the mood to participate like I used to. Not even as a petite blonde across the room eye fucks me.

How long has it been since I’ve gotten laid?

Weeks?

Months?

Guess I stopped counting after seeing that light at the end of the tunnel and wondering if it’d be better or worse for Bea if I just stepped through it.

Eyeing the bachelorette party, I consider my options. More than a couple look ready to forget their lives for the night by climbing into bed with a biker. The girls whocome to the club are usually more than willing. After all, that’s what we’re good for.

But as I glance between the collection of pretty girls in short dresses, I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

Something really is wrong with me.

Physically, I’m healed, but somewhere deep down, regret, guilt, and doubt are shrapnel rattling around.

That’s probably why my leg still aches every time I move it.

The bullet’s out.

The wound’s healed.

But the reminder of that night—of almost leaving Bea all alone and wondering if that was for the best—remains.

I scratch my jaw and then take another sip, trying to focus on something other than the world I’d be leaving my daughter in if I was no longer in it.

After all, our enemies are nowhere near sated, and there’s a constant threat of war between clubs on the horizon. Especially after we intercepted the Iron Sinners’ last weapons shipment, and I drained the bank account they were using to hold Rick Zane’s dirty casino money.

They’ve yet to make a move, but it’s coming. And if I don’t get my head on straight before they do, it’s going to get me killed.

Just like my father.

Chaos elbows my arm, knocking me out of my thoughts. “Brother, you’re way too fucking serious right now. Get drunk or get laid.”

“I’m fine,” I lie.

He shakes his head, blatantly pointing at a girl across the bar. “That blonde practically begging to get on her knees every time you look over there isfine. Do something about it.”

“I said I’m fine.” I take another sip of my beer.

Chaos narrows his eyes but doesn’t say anything more as Ghost comes from around the corner, aiming for the barstool on the other side of me.

Ghost and I are brothers beyond the patch. After his parents died in a car crash when he was ten, my family took him in. So even if I feel a brotherhood with every member of the Twisted Kings, Ghost is as close to being blood family as it gets for me.

“Want one?” I tip my beer at Ghost.

“I’m good.” He shakes his head, sliding onto the barstool next to me.

We watch as Soul approaches the bachelorette party, already making a fool of himself in an attempt to get under Chaos’s skin. I sense Chaos is about to hop up and steal the brunette away when another girl turns the corner and pauses directly in front of us, drawing all our attention.

“Hello.” Her voice is sweet as honey.

Polite.

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